Warm Light
by Thalius
Summary: Cayde and Amanda, both trying to get a good night's sleep.
1. Part I

_New priority item: filing cabinet._

Amanda scrawled the words on the small chalkboard she'd found on her last scavenge, which now hung above the desk in her quarters, rubbing off old doodles of a Fallen skiff to make room for the note. The requisition blueprints she was receiving on the daily were starting to get out of hand, and she really needed a more official place to sort them than pinning them up around her room.

She added a few extra things to list, like power cells and spinmetal and about half the parts required to fix the broken Sparrows she _also_ received far too often, and it quickly grew to span the length of the blackboard. Eventually she put down the chalk, stopping herself from filling the whole thing with things she needed. She'd either have to find a Guardian to thin out the list for her or go out for a scavenge herself.

"Be nice to get out of the Tower for once," she said to no one. It _had_ been a while since she'd done a walk of the mothyards. It wasn't like the Tower was much concerned with patrols these days. Too much chaos to worry about spare bounties.

A knock cut through her thoughts. She balanced herself with a hand on her old office chair and frowned at the door. Her prosthetic was leaning against the foot of her bed frame a few feet away from her, and she currently didn't feel like hobbling over to meet her guest. "Come on in," she called instead.

The metal slid open and the familiar colouring of Cayde's ghost flew in, preceded by its Guardian.

"Hey, little dude," she greeted the shell, watching it alight on top of her desk. It whistled up at her, and she offered up a palm for it to rest on.

"Not bothering you, are we?" Cayde asked from the doorway, taking in her quarters. He'd been in here a few times before—mostly to deliver on debts owed through lost poker games—but his eyes swept straight past the piles of blueprints and spare parts and landed on her right leg. "Oh. Getting ready for bed then."

"Yeah, but it's alright." She bolstered herself on the edge of her desk, grabbed the rail beside her bed, and sat herself down on the thin mattress in the corner of her room. Cayde's ghost had poofed out of her hand and reappeared beside its guardian's head, cogs turning in silent conversation with the Hunter.

"What can I do for ya?" she asked, raising a brow at them.

"Nothing, really." Cayde moved over to the bookshelf next to her desk, poking at the old worn out tech she had on display. "Just bored."

"You hustled all the way down into the guts of the Tower to see me out of boredom?"

"Well, to be fair, I'm _really_ bored." He looked over at her. "Zavala started talking about patrol route regulations, and I still don't think he realises I left."

She snickered. There was no end to the list of complaints she'd heard from Cayde about his lacklustre life, and the duties of the Vanguard filled most of that list. "Nice to hear you take safety so seriously."

"I do!" he insisted, picking up an old analogue alarm clock from one of the shelves and tossing it between his hands. "That's why I had to leave. Didn't want to die of boredom."

"Your ghostie there can just pick you back up if you do," she assured him. "And can you not play with my stuff? It's broken enough already."

He gave her a wounded look at the lack of trust in his handling, but he placed the clock back where it belonged on the shelf—and then picked up a small wireless speaker. "What about this? Looks less breakable."

"No."

"This?" An electric razor.

"How 'bout you don't touch any of my valuables and I won't go rootin' through your holster and play with that hand cannon of yours?"

She realised too late how that came out, and rolled her eyes to hide the flush of her cheeks when the plates of Cayde's face shifted into a suggestive brow waggle.

"Maybe that's the plan."

"I'll light your cards on fire."

"And miss beating me at poker? Never." His hand danced just over the handle of a pristine China mug, a very specific test of her patience.

"Least you finally admit you suck at cards." She cleared her throat when his fingers brushed the rim of the cup. "And who do you think you are, bargin' in here and touchin' all my crap?"

"Thought you said it was valuable."

She huffed and fell back on the lone lumpy pillow on her bed. "Maybe you should swing by more often. I'm exhausted just talkin' to you."

She watched him tug her chair over to him with a leg, and he sat down on it backwards, straddling the frame of the backrest. He settled his arms over the back and looked over at her, eyes bright blue in the dim warmth of the old bulbs hanging from the ceiling. She could tell he wanted something, but damn if Cayde ever gave a straight answer.

"Gonna watch me sleep then?"

He shrugged. "Still more fun than listening to Zavala."

"Weirdo." She punched her pillow and pulled her right leg into a more comfortable position on the bed, settling into the mattress.

"Sounds like you need a new bed," he commented, wincing at the twang of springs.

"Hard to get a hold of luxuries when I can barely get spinmetal from Guardians," she muttered, slinging an arm over her eyes to shelter them from the light. "A mattress is pretty low on my list of things to replace, Cayde."

"I could see what I could do for you. Be easy enough to steal a bunk from the hunger lounge," he offered.

"Rather have spinmetal if you're feelin' chivalrous."

"But where's the fun in that?"

"Not a lot of time for fun these days." The words came out before she properly thought them through, and frowned at how crotchety she sounded. Cayde was silent for too long of a moment, and she sighed. "Oh, don't mind me. Just grumpy and tired."

"No, you're right. Last few months have been rough with all this Crota and Oryx business." The chair creaked as he moved his body around, and she wondered how long it would hold out under his weight. He wasn't much taller than her, but being made of metal must make him a lot heavier than regular humans.

Another pause filled the space between them, and she heard a mechanical sigh escape him. "I can leave," he murmured. "Didn't mean to bother you."

"Not until you tell me what you came down here for. You owe me some glimmer I don't remember winnin'?"

He chuckled at that, and she imagined the warm yellow of his throat lighting up with the sound. "No, nothing like that."

"Then what?"

Exos didn't really need to clear their throats, but the noise he made was a good imitation of the action. "Just to… talk, really. Relax and unwind. Like I said, been a rough few months."

The honesty was enough to get her to pull her arm away from her face, and she squinted over at him in the dim light. "You alright?"

He gave her a grin that looked hollow and forced. "Same as ever."

Back to regularly scheduled non-answers, then. She patted the space beside her on the bed, a split decision she didn't bother to question the implications of. "Come sit next to me."

"What?"

"Said you wanted to relax, so come lay down."

He stared at her for too long, unblinking; even his ghost hung silent by his shoulder, looking pensive and tense. Amanda sighed. "I ain't gonna start fondlin' you or nothin'. But if you really don't wanna, you can sleep on the couch there. Don't mind if you crash here for the night."

He looked over his shoulder at the old sofa she had by the door as he seemed to consider his options. She closed her eyes again while she waited for him to make up his mind. Maybe she'd fall asleep before he decided, and then she wouldn't have to think about any of this. She'd been friends with him for Lord knew how long, but this was still a bit of a stretch for either of them.

Eventually she felt the bed creak from his weight, and the space beside her sagged as he laid down next to her. Amanda opened her eyes, trying to blink the heaviness out of them, and looked over at Cayde. He stared straight up at the ceiling, and his limbs were locked tight by his sides. _Not really relaxing, is it?_

She rolled her eyes and sat up, moving her pillow over. "Here," she said, and gestured to it. "Only got one, sorry. Should be big enough to share, though."

He looked over at it, and then to her. "What, don't bring a lot of people over?"

"If you mean as bed buddies, then no. I don't. Can't expect you get a lot either if you're down here messin' with my loot."

He grinned at that and shifted so that his head was on one half of the pillow, and she settled back down on her half. Their shoulders touched with the proximity, and she was pleasantly surprised with how warm he felt beneath his gear.

"People are intimidated by my authority," he told her, and she couldn't help the loud snort that ripped out from her nose. Cayde's eyes snapped to hers, surprised by the sudden sound.

She covered her mouth and laughed some more. "You sure do say a lotta dumb shit, Cayde."

"It's the truth!"

"Yeah, sure."

"It is!"

The rest of his protests were drowned out by more snorts and laughter, and she even heard his ghost snicker somewhere above their heads. Cayde took that time to pout when he realised she wasn't listening to him, even going so far as to cross his arms and pull his chin down to his chest.

She forced herself to calm down when he looked about ready to throw a tantrum, taking in deep breaths to break up the giggling. Still, the occasional laugh still escaped her, and she watched his face tighten with each stray chuckle. Amanda patted his bicep in a conciliatory gesture, rubbing her free hand over her nose in an attempt to sober up.

"I'm just messin' with you. You sure are easy to tease."

His pouting act dissolved with his grin, and he looked over at her, a fleeting expression of mock hurt still playing on his face. "And you're easy to rile up."

"Yeah, guess so." She sighed, content this time, and let her hands drop down beside her. It was at the same moment he let his arms unfold from his chest, and she felt her fingers brush over his.

Amanda figured she had two options then: make it awkward, or keep talking. She decided to go with the latter.

"You're really warm," she observed, looking down and grabbing a hold of his hand. If she happened to be using it as an excuse to touch him, then that was just an added bonus. "Didn't realise exos let off heat."

"It's the Light, too," he replied, watching her play with his fingers. "Makes all Guardians warm."

"Must be good snuggle buddies in the winter."

"If you need one, hit me up. I'll save you a bunch of glimmer on heating."

She grinned. "Will do."

The conversation stopped but she continued to hold his hand, and he continued to let her. Eventually she brought them back down on the bed, and under the cover of the dim light, she felt his fingers lace through hers. A small thrill went through her, but she squeezed his hand, and saw his throat alight with a contented hum out of the corner of her eye.

She managed to pull the thin blanket over them without disturbing their linked hands, and she settled into the pillow next to him, no longer quite so cautious of his shoulder bumping with hers. "You comfortable?" she asked, not looking at him.

"No. Your bed is horrible."

She waved his concerns off with her free hand. "Exos can't get osteoporosis, so you'll be fine."

He scoffed at her dismissal. "You're a terrible hostess."

"Least I don't barge into people's—"

It was his turn to wave off words. "That's not the same—"

"Oh, you bet your metal butt it is." She shifted closer to the wall on her side. "There, more room. Is that better, Mr. Intruder?"

"I mean you technically let me in, so I'm not an intruder." He shifted again. "No, still horrific. I'll definitely have nightmares."

She rolled her eyes. "I hope you do."

He let out a string of indignant grumbles that weren't really words, but she got the gist of his complaints. Amanda closed her eyes, trying to focus on sleeping now. Cayde _was_ warm, and this was perhaps the most comfortable she'd been in a long time. She needed to capitalise on that before the night was wasted and she'd have to go back to working miracles on repairs with no resources to fix anything.

"Maybe I _will_ get you a new bed anyway," Cayde finally said, interrupting her intent to sleep.

"I like my bed just fine."

"Well I don't."

"Never met anyone who complains as much as you do. Besides, you won't have to deal with it for long unless you aim to come back."

Her words brought on another stretch of silence, where she heard Cayde's answer to that question more clearly than if he'd spoken.

"You can if you want," she continued, rubbing a thumb over his. "I don't mind the company. Like you said—I don't get a lot of it."

There was a pause before he answered her, and she grinned when he finally did. "Just so long as I get to replace your terrible mattress."

"That's a done deal."

They even shook on it, and with that settled, she was finally able to be some shut-eye. And if she shuffled closer over to his side of the bed for more warmth during the night, then all the better.


	2. Part II

At some point during the night, she had rolled towards Cayde's significant weight on the mattress, and then at some other point he'd curled up around her like a giant cat. She hadn't remembered either of those things happening, but when the sun roused her through the port window above her bed, Amanda found herself tangled up in his grasp. His cloak was even tossed over the two of them, and she found the set up a little _too_ perfect to be an accident.

She wiggled one of her arms free to rub at her eyes and give a half-hearted stretch, careful not to jostle Cayde too much. She also wiped at her brow; she wasn't used to being this warm, but she couldn't exactly complain. The experience of waking up next to another person was an exciting change—even if it was someone who took up all the room on the mattress and had no concept of personal space.

Feeling more awake, Amanda turned her head just enough to take in Cayde's features—which were, as expected, a little too close to her own face. It wasn't often she saw exos sleep, and she'd certainly never seen him this relaxed. The hard casing of humour that normally pulled all of his features tightly together was conspicuously absent, and the sudden intense vulnerability of his expression surprised her.

She was still staring at him when turquoise light slanted across the off-white of her pillow as he opened his eyes—or rather turned them on. _Woke up, whatever_. She squinted to adjust for the sudden influx of light, and saw his eyes dim in response.

"Oh. Hi."

"Mornin'."

His eyes flicked down to follow the line of his arm, and she saw his faceplates shift and quirk as he tried to think of some smart comment to make.

He settled on: "I'm not sure how this happened."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm as surprised as you are."

She snickered at that, and saw his throat flare yellow with a responding hum of amusement. The silence that immediately followed was less funny, and Cayde waited a whole three seconds before awkwardly pulling his arm back. "I'll just, uh—"

She grabbed his wrist, and he froze. "Never said I wanted you to move."

"Oh." She gauged his feelings correctly, it seemed, as his arm quickly wrapped back around her and his expression relaxed in relief. "Okay then."

Emboldened by his positive response, Amanda pressed her face against the soft leather of his chest, breathing in the scent of his coat. "Exos're squishier than I thought you'd be."

"That's my gear, actually."

She sighed. "I meant underneath, dummy. You feel—" She pressed a palm against his side, testing the resistance of his body. He made a sound almost like a cat purring after being scratched between its ears, and she grinned into his coat. "... I just, I dunno. Thought you'd feel more like steel."

"Be hard to move if all parts of me were that unpliable."

The tone of his voice suggested they were entering into the dangerously close territory of a dick joke, so she guided them towards a more appropriate chain of conversation. "Just a nice surprise, is all."

"Never slept with an exo before?"

"You make a hard case against the idea."

The outrage in his voice wasn't sincere, but he put on a good act. "Wow! You always this grumpy in the morning?"

"You can come back and find out," she mumbled against his chest, deciding then that she very much enjoyed the thought of repeating this.

There was a pause just long enough that she thought she'd overstepped a line, but then he responded. "Ah, so you weren't kidding, then." The sudden sober shift in his voice made her look up at him.

"Do people usually joke about that kind of thing with you?"

She caught the quick flash of hurt in his face before he covered it with a casual shrug. "Not everyone can handle me."

"Well that's a rude thing to lie about." She slung an arm over his hip, her fingers playing with the thin fabric of his cloak. "But to answer your question: no, I ain't kiddin'."

"Guess I can't back out of my promise to get you a new mattress, then."

"You're stuck now."

Amanda felt his chin brush the top of her head, and she listened to the pleasant rumble of his voice deep in his chest. "There's worse places to get stuck."

She closed her eyes and shimmied a little closer to him. They were tucked into a bed too small and running a few degrees too warm for her liking, but she was enjoying the hell out of it, even if it was corny and a lot more sappy than she was used to. Cayde was oddly a good cuddler; she felt his fingers play with stray ends of her hair, occasionally brushing the skin of her neck, and he shifted with her to whenever she needed to adjust to a more comfortable position. She could stay here all day, she thought, listening to the soft sounds of her own breathing and the—

An abrupt chirp over Cayde's shoulder interrupted the lull she found herself in, and she looked up to see his ghost floating over them.

"Ah," it began, sounding stiff and awkward. "Sorry to bother, but—"

"No you're not," Cayde muttered. Then he groaned loudly into the empty air of the room. "Who's calling?"

"Zavala. You also have twelve new pings from several scouts who returned last night from Old Chicago."

"Damn. Really can't sleep in, then." He untangled himself from her with a quick grace that left her cold and a little disoriented, and before she could even register the fact that he wasn't on the bed any longer, he was already at the other end of her room. He tugged his belt and holster back on, which he'd slung over the chair he'd been sitting in last night. She didn't even remember him taking it off, but he put himself together in the short time it took her to sit up.

"Sorry," he said, ducking down into her mirror to attend to the skewed state of his hood. "Zavala seems to be missing me dearly already."

"It's awright. I should get up anyway." She scratched at her head, suddenly conscious of how unkempt her hair probably looked.

Cayde cast about the room as if looking for something, and then his eyes settled on the small port window hanging above her bed. "Mind if I use that?"

She looked over her shoulder at the smudged glass and frowned. "For what?"

"To get to work," he replied slowly.

She narrowed her eyes at his tone. "I got a door."

"I need to uphold my virtue," he protested, clasping a hand to his chest. "I can't be seen sneaking out of people's apartments in the morning."

She snorted at the word _virtue_ , but shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I guess. If you can climb out."

The lens above his eyes quirked, questioning her doubts in his ability to scale her quarters. She sighed and reached for the prosthetic leaning against the rail of her bed, slipping it on quickly and getting up from the mattress. Cayde yanked the bedframe away from the wall so he had room to shove himself through the window, but paused to look back at her as he unlatched the glass from the sill.

"Thanks for the horrible sleep, by the way."

She dipped her head to him. "Anytime."

"Same time this evening?"

Amanda grinned. "If you come back with a new mattress, then sure."

He balked at her. "I thought you said you liked your current one?"

"I do, but I don't like hearin' you whine about it."

"Fine. I'll beg a few favours." With that he ducked through the window, slipping out of her quarters quiet as a mouse. She shoved her bed back into its original position and sat down again once he was gone, allowing herself a minute to grin stupidly into the empty room before she started getting ready for the day.


	3. Part III

"Goddamn Vanguard," was what he heard muttered under her breath, and it was repeated a few times for good measure. "Think you can just skip wait lists for luxury items! And with empty pockets while you're at it!"

He frowned. "Phiona—"

"It's Aisland, Cayde," the merchant shot back. "I'm not in a patient mood today, and your shiny googly-eyes don't work on me."

He held back a sigh. "You must want something other than glimmer."

"Absolutely not." She turned away from him and slammed the book in her hands down on the desk in front of her. "Glimmer is the only thing that keeps my warehouse staffed, my scouts bringing back inventory to catalogue and sell, and my competition bought out." She turned to whisper to a man that had slipped behind the counter of her storefront, and he ran off in the same direction he came a moment later. Cayde saw the scouting badge ironed onto the arm of his jacket and got an idea.

 _Cayde, I don't think Aisland will fall for—_

He ignored his ghost. "But I _could_ get you paperwork that would speed customs along at the gates. I know you keep most of your inventory cycling day-to-day. Delays at inspection cost you a lot of money."

She narrowed her eyes and stepped closer to him, her hands planting flat on the counter.

 _I told you, idiot._

"You wanna know something else, _Cayde?_ Glimmer doesn't try to lie or cheat me with bullshit lines about 'special permits', either." Her fingers made harsh quotes next to her face before thumping back down on the counter. "Surprisingly that's a difficult quality to find in people, even someone as esteemed as the Hunter Vanguard." Her tone wasn't exactly threatening, but he'd toed over her line, and he would need to work quickly to correct that.

 _Goddamn rookies always get to the good ones first and ruin the game for everyone else._

 _It's very unfortunate that you can't just scam people with your paperwork line, yes,_ his ghost whispered to him.

 _You're enjoying this too much._

 _I like a challenge, same as you._

"You can give me glimmer now," Aisland continued, the suspicious look in her eyes not fading. "Or you can write your name on my list and get the…. fifty-eighth feather bed I happen across in the Wilds, and then you'll still need glimmer for that." She raised a brow and held out a pen to him. "So? What will it be, Vanguard?"

He rolled his shoulders and put on a winning smile, doing his best to save face. "I'll be back with a good offer, Aisland. Don't you worry."

"Wasn't planning on it."

He stepped away from her stall, heard the line murmur in relief behind him, and he hurried away from the bazaar. His ghost popped up in front of him, floating backwards to hold his eye. "So what's the plan now?"

"Now we do some research."

The cogs of his ghost's body dipped in a cautious frown. "What sort of research are you talking about?"

* * *

" _In accordance with Article Seven point Six-Five of the Vanguard Code of Ethics under Section Four: Personnel Operational Standards, it has been deemed wholly immoral for any member of the Vanguard, past or present, to engage in larceny of any kind while in a humanity-controlled territory. The only exceptions to this are during Major-Class security breaches of said territories, where total loss of weaponry while engaged in combat demands weapon-related theft only, and severe medical emergencies in which the theft of specific equipment is deemed necessary to the safety of human lives."_ His ghost hummed, twirling its fins in the dim light. "Well, unless you want to set the Tower on fire and kick down the Wall, I can't find a legally sanctioned reason for you to break into Aisland's warehouse and steal a feather-down."

He frowned at that. Hours of searching and he was still nowhere closer to coming into possession of a mattress. "How about those Warlock philosonomicon scripts? They're all about moral-relativism in those things, and I'm sure they have something about rationalising theft for a girl you're sweet on."

"I'm surprised you remember the name."

Cayde scoffed at his ghost. "You sound like Ikora."

"I do often listen to her on your behalf while you zone out," it reminded him. "Which is more than you think it is—and by the way, we should be present at the Vanguard table to listen to her _right now_."

When he didn't respond with anything more than a dismissive shrug, his ghost sighed. "But to answer your question: while important philosophical works, they should not and will never be legal or moral frameworks for Guardian civilizations."

"They were written by Guardian scholars, though." He fingered a piece of rust off the railing in front of him. "It's a Warlock's job to know things and write them down for the benefit of the rest of us."

"They also have a lengthy section detailing the economic and technological rationale behind mass slavery," his ghost replied. "Philosonomicons compile and detail moral justifications for all kinds of deeds, good and bad, and some warlocks choose to live by those writings in various degrees of intensity. However, you are neither a warlock nor a free agent that can operate outside of Vanguard law. Well," it added, seeing the look on Cayde's face. "Not to the degree that Ikora or Zavala would ignore you breaking into the private property of a Tower merchant."

"So it's okay when they get fancy weapon mods out of my smuggling, but not when I want to do something nice for someone." He shook his head. "Hypocritical."

"I recall the primary benefit of obtaining a new mattress would be to satisfy _you,_ not Amanda. _Anyway,_ as I said, I would advise you very strongly against larceny."

"Aisland doesn't speak my language," he complained, shifting his weight to his other knee. The vantage point the vacant apartment balcony afforded him was perfect, really; her entire warehouse was in view, and he could easily see several potential points of entry. It was be so _simple…._

"Not everyone can be bought with those fancy illegal weapon mods or licensing scams."

"Property wealth means nothing to people anymore."

"Not when you're cash-poor, no," his ghost agreed. "But selling off some of your cached locations to guardians might earn you enough money to jump Aisland's queue for feather beds."

His face twisted in disgust at that. "That is a terrible idea."

"It is an excellent one, given you only have four hours to obtain a mattress."

"I'm not really property-rich if I sell off the locations to said property."

"But it makes you _cash-_ rich, which is the only way to obtain a new bed for Amanda. _No,"_ it added immediately, anticipating his counter-argument. "Stealing from Aisland is out of the question. It would be the easiest case of theft to solve given your display at her stall this morning, and you would also implicate Holliday in your criminal activity, which I think would be more than enough to halt any chance of you spending another night with her."

"Don't break your legs jumping off that high horse," he muttered.

"Lucky for both of us, I don't have legs."

"Or a solid plan."

"Oh, I do, you just don't like it."

"Well what else am I gonna do when I get the chance to roam the solar system again if it's not go back for the shit I didn't have time to collect before?" He pulled his hood down lower over his face, annoyed at how bright the city could be in the evenings. Made reconnaissance work damn difficult sometimes.

"Perhaps patrol work or something collectively beneficial for the Tower."

"Now you're just being facetious."

"You're the one not taking this seriously."

And then he considered it. It could potentially work out in his favour—sell off geopoints for glimmer, then split some of the plunder with the scouts. It might even help complete some trade deals he had with Future War Cult, if Lakshmi was willing to build her munitions with some outdated Golden Age equipment….

Cayde sighed. "Alright. Start compiling lat-long coordinates for some of the easier locations—"

"Already done," his ghost replied. "I've also assessed the market price for scavenging intel and, well, you'll get that bed in no time. Information is at a nice premium at the moment, lucky for you."

"Better be one hell of a great bed."

* * *

Hmmm. Well, not _exactly_ what he'd been going for, but—

His ghost scanned the floor of Holliday's apartment, whistling in disapproval. "Do you remember where all of this goes?" it asked, picking up the frame of a rusted floodlight with a small beam from its lens.

"Kind of," he lied, placing the fallen collectibles in his hands back on the shelves lining her room. "Hopefully she won't notice."

"Yes. The horribly oversized mattress will probably distract her." It placed the frame on the top shelf and looked at him. "You didn't listen to me when I told you to get the dimensions of her room first—"

"There was no time! And it fits well enough anyway," he added, nodding to the new mattress that dominated the corner of her room.

"You only destroyed the rest of her quarters getting it in here."

" _I'm_ not the one responsible for transmatting—"

"I _told_ you to get the correct dimensions so that I would know—"

He waved his hand in dismissal. "No time for figuring out who's to blame. Just help me put this stuff back."

 _It_ _ **is**_ _your fault,_ it whispered to him, but put up no more of a fight. Trinkets and old souvenirs slipped in and out of his hands as he placed them carefully back on the shelves that his _ghost_ had slammed with the edges of the bed frame. She really did have a lot junk— _stuff_ , he reminded himself—and it would take awhile to put it all back. It did give him a good excuse to look through it, though.

"She really likes old equipment frames," he observed, turning the empty shell of a manual computer mouse over in his hands. "I'll have to keep an eye out for these in the future."

"I'm not sure she'll want more gifts from you if this is at all indicative of a trend," his ghost muttered, flicking about the room. "And you don't do a lot of rummaging around these days, anyway."

"Oh, don't I?" He held up the spoke of a chain from what looked to be a motorcycle, spinning it around his finger. "What do you call this, then?"

"Breaking and entering."

"Slanderous. Robbers don't leave gifts for people, either."

He did hurry up and get her room sorted, though. The timeline was getting tight, and as much as he was excited to see her again, he could really use a few extra forty minutes or so. The state of her quarters once he'd finished wasn't exactly what he'd consider pristine, but it was the best he could put together in the time he had. His fingers left the last trinket as he heard noise at the door, and he managed to look just shy of casual when it opened.

Holliday trudged in, dragging her boots over the rug with her shoulders slouched. Her mouth stretched into the beginnings of a yawn when she spotted him, and then something like a squeak came out of her.

"Oh— _Lord_ , Cayde, really," she breathed, hand to heart. "You look creepy as all hell standing in the dark with your eyes glowing like that."

 _Creepy._ Not a stellar start to the conversation, but he'd make do. "Sorry. Forgot you don't have night vision."

She flicked the lights on and rubbed at her eyes, nodding to him in approval. "Much better," she murmured. "You're here early. Figured you'd still be working."

"Took a personal day."

"Heckling the merchants along The Laneways," his ghost chimed in, floating over to Amanda. "It was quite the sight."

She snickered and held out her palm to the ghost, who rested its small fins on her hand. "What were you heckling 'em for?"

Cayde shrugged, leaning against the shelf. "It was _bartering_ , for one, and nothing, really. Just making good on my promise."

She raised a brow, and then her line of sight slipped past him and caught onto the bed. "Oh," she said, eyes going wide. "I'd almost forgot about that."

He offered his hand to her, which she squeezed with her free hand. His ghost popped out of sight and her other hand fell tiredly to her side. "Come sit down."

They wandered over and sat on the edge. "It's um. It's big," she said, taking a tentative seat beside him on the mattress. "A lot bigger'n the last one. Hope you're not planning to have a party in here."

"You'll need a bigger fridge if you want to have a proper party," he said. "And unfortunately I don't have the funds for that at the moment."

She bounced on the edge of the bed, testing the springs, and then fell back onto it. She still had a hand in his, so he laid back with her. "It's nice," she said, wiggling around. "Ass-big, but nice."

"And quiet," he added. "And not lumpy."

"Well you're noisy enough for all of us."

He was stilling trying to think of a worthy reply when she sighed and closed her eyes. "I do wanna say thank you, Cayde. This is actually real nice."

He felt his insides warm. "It was nothing."

"Couldn't've been." She squeezed his hand. "I know how hard it is to get luxury item tickets in the City."

"I got friends in good places."

She snorted, levelling a doubtful look at him. "Yeah, okay then. I do, uh—I do got a question, though."

"Shoot."

"Why's all my stuff mussed around?"

He laughed. "Shoddy transmatting work from my ghost, unfortunately."

It appeared over their heads, flaring hot indignation at the pair of them. "The state of your room has _absolutely nothing_ to do with m—"

Cayde's hand whipped up to grab the ghost out of the air, and his fingers closed around its cogs just before to poofed out of sight with an incredulous chirp. Amanda laughed, cheeks warm and crinkled with amusement, and then she rolled over to him. Her leg brushed his, and her hand settled on his chest, fingers wrapping around the strap of his pouch.

"I got," she began slow, face close to his. "Another question."

"Shoot again," he replied, voice strained.

"How d'you go about givin' an exo a smooch?" Blue eyes were bright and challenging, and if he wasn't so preoccupied with figuring out how to answer her question, he would have noticed she was nervous.

"Can't ever—" He stops, squints, and seeing no hint of malice or trickery in Holliday's face—as if he ever _would_ —he continues. "I can't really give you an answer."

"Must be one," she said, the hand on his chest moving up and brushing under the plates of his jaw. "Seen other exos get up close and personal with their friends. Gotta be a work-around, right?"

"Right." His own hand finds itself trailing up her arm, to her shoulder and into her hair. It's soft even through the material of his glove, and his chest constricts. "You _can_ , it's just—"

"Yeah?"

"I don't really have a way of returning the favour. Not in the traditional sense anyway." Memories he had done well to bury came flooding back—ancient history with those long since dead, carved in with longing and regret, and Amanda was the only thing keeping him from drifting away altogether.

She grinned down at him. "I ain't doin' it so you can return some favours, Cayde. Just wanna kiss you is all."

He conceded her point with a nod. "I just wanted to warn you upfront."

"Yeah, you don't gotta warn me about kissin' you. Already know what I'm getting myself into."

He wanted to respond, but then she ducked her head and pressed a soft, warm kiss to cold steel. His fingers curled in her hair. He tracked Light up his arm and into his hand, a brief spark that was just enough to spread outwards from his fingers and warm her skin with a heady glow that he knew was especially addictive to non-guardians. Amanda responded with a surprised, pleased hum that he found no less addictive in its own way.

She pulled back too soon, her eyes warm and smile big. Amanda breathed out, blowing gentle air onto his faceplates. "Now see, that weren't so bad."

"For me." The joke was weak, even to his ears.

She rolled her eyes and patted his chest. "Nah, I liked it. Neckin' is fun, but I like this arrangement well enough."

He flipped their positions on the bed—carefully, so as not to jostle her around too much. She rolled with him, arm wrapping over his shoulders and knocking her boots with his. He blocked out the light swaying over her, casting her in shadow and throwing sharp lines of honey light over her face when he spoke.

"I can't kiss you, but—"

"But you gonna sweet talk me?"

"I can make you feel good." _Wow, very cheesy._ He brushed the hair out of her face, doing well to keep her gaze, and did his best to continue. "I can—"

"What're you on about?" She sat up, put an arm of distance between them, and he stumbled up from the bed. Amanda shimmied to the edge of the mattress and raised a brow at him. "Is _this_ why you got me a new bed?"

"No! I mean—no, it's not. That was purely to save my back," he added, another weak joke.

She narrowed her eyes. "You were fine till I asked to kiss you. Now you're all weird."

He shook his head. "That sounds bad I know, but—" His hands wove around in front of him, searching for the right thing to say. "I feel bad for not—it's just hard to—"

She continued to stare at him, and he continued to not have a proper explanation. "I don't know," he said finally, honestly. "I'm sorry if that was sudden."

"Well, I was rolling around in a bed with you. Wasn't completely out of the blue." She bobbed her head from side to side. "But all I wanted was a kiss, honest."

"That I can't return."

"So it is bothering you."

He shrugged. "It doesn't bother you?"

There was another long stretch of silence, and Amanda didn't once look away from him. He'd had plenty of staring contests across tables and over canyons, and even one with Zavala, but this was proving to be a challenge unto itself.

She cleared her throat a few seconds after he thought it might be a good time for him to shove himself through her window again, and he stopped his boot from pulling the rest of his body in that direction at the sound. "Cayde," she said. "I'm not gonna hold you ransom for affection."

"I wasn't—"

"Hush. And I ain't gonna brush you off because we can't neck on some bed you probably stole."

"I didn't—"

"I said _hush."_ She held up a finger. "I kissed you cause I wanted to, and I liked it a lot. I'm sorry if someone's jerked you around for that before, but I'm not gonna. Are we clear?"

He nodded, not knowing what else to say. She nodded back and held out her hand. "Then come on back here. I'm tired and you're good at cuddling. Just kick off your boots first."

He hummed at that and eagerly followed her back onto the mattress, letting her settle themselves down on the bed however she liked. He silently told his ghost to shut off the light, which it did with a click of its shell, and he felt Amanda's arm wrap tight over his waist.

"And one more thing," she whispered, mouth brushing over the hood of his cloak. Her voice was husky, as if she'd just woken up.

"What's that?"

"I'll take a rain cheque on whatever it was you had in mind," she said, incredibly close and warm in his arms. "Just can't spring that kinda thing on me."

His chest constricted again, but it wasn't in apprehension. "Loud and clear."

He could feel her smile against his face, and his hand worked its way back into her hair, running softly over her scalp. It wasn't a conventional goodnight kiss, but it was enough to prompt her to press her mouth into the exposed steel at his neck, and he continued to play with her hair well into the night, long after she had fallen asleep.

* * *

 **AN:** much thanks to occasional_boy_reporter on AO3 for the idea of Cayde transmatting a mattress directly into Holliday's room.

Well, that concludes this story. Thanks for all the lovely comments and faves!


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